


I'll Love You Always Darling

by StupidGenius



Series: Not How They Planned It [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Past Character Death, Stiles needs motive, and isaac too, hence Monica's diner, i may have been watching friends when I wrote their argument, idiots fighting for dumb reasons, of course Stiles became a deputy, sorry in advance for the dead character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 17:42:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3497126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StupidGenius/pseuds/StupidGenius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You two fight all the time, I don't get what the big deal is. Isn't your gift to him usually incredible make up sex? If I remember correctly, he seemed really adamant on you fucking him up against a wall."</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Love You Always Darling

**Author's Note:**

> My computer is broken, so I wrote this on my iPad. There might be some mistakes.
> 
> Just a few ideas I had that I needed to write.

"Oh, God, _I'm_ _sorry_ . I didn't realize I'm not allowed to own anything in _my_ home." Stiles sneered, slipping on his shoes. Derek huffed.

"It's _our_ home, and you _are_ allowed to keep your dumb shit! But we share this place, Stiles, and I don't want your crap lying around everywhere!"

"You've gotten rid of almost everything I own! You even threw out-" he stopped and swallowed, a look Derek had never seen before passed over his face. "You act like this place is just yours." He buttoned up his shirt, his badge reflecting the light from the window. "I don't feel like we live together, Derek. Most of the time, I just feel like...like I'm invading your space."

"I told you you could keep your stuff. You just can't leave it wherever you feel like it!"

"Oh, so it's okay for that _monstrosity_ of a painting to hang right above our bed, but I can't put my captain America alarm clock on our night table? And it's perfectly acceptable for you to veto every piece of furniture I suggest for our house, but I have to agree with everything you pick or you won't speak to me for a week!" He growled, grabbing his gun. Derek crossed his arms over his chest. They'd been fighting for two hours now, and he was exhausted. Stiles paused at the doorway, scrubbing a hand down his face. "I can't do this right now. I just... I can't. I'll see you later." And with that, he left.

He left and Derek didn't tell him he loved him.

 _It's fine_. He thought to himself, glaring down at the glass Stiles left on the table. He'd forgotten to put it on a coaster - again. Even though he'd begged Derek to buy him those dumb Disney coasters he saw at target. _He knows I do. This is just a dumb fight._

Looking around, he did notice that a lot of the things in their apartment weren't exactly Stiles'...style. The younger man wasn't one of geometric shapes or black and white furniture. Stiles was bright colors, different shades of blues, reds, purples, and greens. He was multi colored string pinned to hundreds of pictures on his cork board, doodles on yellow notebook paper left on the coffee table, and bright red hoodies draped over chairs or left on the floor near the couch. Derek could barely see Stiles in their apartment. He could smell him, his scent ingrained in their leather couch and in their bed. But he couldn't see his boyfriend's bright, colorful personality anywhere other than a couple of coasters and mugs.

"Damn it." He sighed, plunking down on Stiles' favorite spot on the couch. "He was right." He muttered to himself.

 

* * *

 

 

"Stiles." Derek whispered, trailing his fingers lightly down the younger man's spine. His face was buried in Derek's pillow, heart beat slow and steady. "Stiles, it's noon."

"Hnmng." He shifted so he faced Derek, but didn't open his eyes.

"Don't you have lunch with Lydia today?" He reminded him, propping himself up on his elbow. Stiles groaned, then wrapped his leg around Derek's hips, and pulled himself flush against his body, bare skin warm and soft. Derek sighed. "She'll be pissed you know."

"I don't care." The pale man grumbled, burying his nose in Derek's neck.

"She'll worry."

"I'm not leaving this bed. You can't make me." He paused, then looked up and cracked an eye open. "Wanna have sex again?" _Yes. Yes please._

"No." Derek huffed. Stiles grinned, shifting his hips and pressing himself closer.

"Really? Cause I think part of you does." _Fuck_.

"That doesn't matter. I have no control over that." He rolled his eyes, reluctantly prying a very warm, very _naked_ Stiles off him. "Your roommate probably thinks you died. Last time we stayed out all night, he called your father ten times asking if he'd found your body in a ditch somewhere yet."

"Why do you always refer to Danny as 'my roommate'? You know him. You know his name." Stiles got up, stretching. He smirked when he caught Derek watching him. "You sure about the sex?"

"Absolutely."

"Whatever dude."

"Don't call me dude." He pulled one of his sweaters out of his drawer and tossed it at him. "Get dressed before Lydia shows up and kills you."

 

* * *

 

 

Erica came over around three to help him.

"You two fight all the time, I don't get what the big deal is. Isn't your gift to him usually incredible make up sex? If I remember correctly, he seemed really adamant on you fucking him up against a wall." Derek felt his cheeks flush.

"You were listening to that?" He thought back to just a couple of days ago, when the pack was supposed to be gone already, and Stiles had been too tired to do anything other than make out for a while. But he had suggested that.

"We'd left not seconds before he mentioned it, so yeah, we all heard it." She rolled her eyes. "So again, I ask, what are we doing here?"

"It was a bad fight, Erica." He snapped. "We don't even... I forgot to say I love you before he left this morning." Her amused expression softened.

"I'm sure he knows you do, Derek."

"I always do. _Always_. And today I didn't. I'm an asshole."

"I won't argue with you there." He growled. "But honestly, Stiles would never doubt how much you love him. I think you made it pretty clear to him how much you did in that warehouse a couple years back. You were always one for dramatics." She grinned.

Four years ago, they'd been been chasing a group of harpies that had been kidnapping dogs and leaving their mangled corpses on people's front doors. When they chased the last one into the warehouse, it had attacked him, and they were all sure he was going to die. He and Stiles had only just started dating only a few weeks before, but he already knew.

_"I love you."_

_"You asshole! You can't tell me you love me while you're bleeding out on the ground! You...you can't just tell me something like that and then go and fucking die on me, damn it! I love you too you bastard, so open your eyes!"_

"Ugh. You're getting that look." Erica wrinkled her nose.

"What look?" He frowned.

"That thing with your face where you stare off into space with this happy look in your eyes. You're such a _nerd_ , why was I ever even scared of you." She huffed.

"You're not helping."

"Fine." She stalked down the isle and paused at the end. He started to go over, but then she tossed something at him. "There. He'll love it."

"This..." He inspected the object. "This is a toy. For toddlers."

"Do you even know Stiles?" She rolled her eyes. "He is a toddler. And he loves Legos."

"Are you sure?" Derek wondered.

"Yes. I'm sure. 100 percent. When his dad threw out his old ones and he moped around like a baby for days. He'll be fine with this." Derek was suddenly nervous.

"But what if he isn't?"

"His love for you doesn't depend on whether you buy him Legos or not, Derek. Stop worrying." She eyed him warily. "Something else is up. You're never this worked up over fights."

"It was a bad one."

"Yeah, but," she sniffed. "You smell weird."

"Wow, thanks."

"Shut up. You know what I mean. You're hiding something." Erica accused, waving a finger around at him. He sighed, considering telling her his plans. But maybe he shouldn't. Maybe Stiles is going to break up with him because he was a huge dick to him that morning.

"Do you promise you won't tell anyone?" He finally asked.

"I swear." Her heartbeat was steady. Still, he couldn't totally sure. "Derek, just spit it out!"

"I bought a ring." He blurted. She blinked at him, mouth gaping like a fish.

"Oh my god." She beamed suddenly, grabbing hold of his shoulders and shaking him.

"What?"

"Holy crap, you're going to propose?! Everyone thought it would be Stiles! Lydia, Isaac, Boyd and Allison own me 100 bucks!" She said excitedly.

"You were betting on who was going to propose?!"

"Yes!" She let him go and smirked. You guys getting together when you did cost be fifty dollars, asshole." She didn't give him a chance to respond to that. "I can't believe you guys are getting married! You, Derek Hale. Married! They're going to freak."

"Will you stop?" He hissed. "I haven't even asked yet. And we don't know if he'll say yes." The thought hurt him, but he seriously doubted they would be together after this. Stiles would pack up his things and leave, probably go and live with Isaac. Maybe he'll find someone better, someone that lets him decorate his own damn apartment. Make him feel like he belongs, unlike what Derek's been doing.

"You're unbelievable." She scoffed. "He will."

"You don't know. You weren't there."

"Are you kidding me, he'll probably _die_ of happiness! He wasn't sure you'd want to marry him, we were talking about it a couple of weeks ago."

"Of course I-" he felt a small smile tug up the corners of his lips. "You think so?"

"Yes!" She grinned. "You two are so adorable, oh my god. Ask him tonight."

"He's pissed at me, I shouldn't."

"You two are ridiculous."

 

* * *

 

 

An uneasy feeling had stuck with him all all morning. Ever since he left the apartment, he felt off.

"You paying attention man?" Isaac questioned. Stiles looked up from the dashboard and squinted at his partner.

"Yeah. Sorry." He shook his head. "What are we doing again?"

"We got a call from someone in the neighborhood, remember? Some suspicious looking people going into the abandoned house at the end of the block?" The blonde raised an eyebrow. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah...yeah. I'm fine. It's just..." Stiles sighed. "Derek and I had a fight this morning."

"You guys fight all the time."

"No we don't! We bicker, it's different." He huffed. "This was was awful. Probably our worst ever. He probably hates me now. We didn't even say 'I love you' to each other. God."

"You know he does." Isaac assured him.

"But does he know?! I was angry at him. What if he thinks I hate him. Fuck. I have to go back. I need to apologize. I don't give a shit what the apartment looks like!" He opened the door of the cruiser and got out, squinting at the house.

"Your fight was about your new apartment?" Isaac appeared beside him.

"Yeah. He doesn't let me have anything. But I don't care about that, because there's no point in me picking out ridiculous furniture if I don't have anyone to share them with."

"You guys are sappy and disgusting, and I'm so glad I don't live with you anymore." He laughed. Stiles glared at him.

"This is serious. You should have seen him."

"Our job is also serious, deputy. We can talk about your guy problems later." He pointed out. Stiles sighed.

"Right." He pushed open the door. "Creepy." He muttered.

"It smells in here." Isaac whispered.

"It's abandoned."

"No, I mean it smells like... Death." Oh. Stiles gulped.

"Oh. Great. Smell anything supernatural?" Last thing they needed was another damn rogue wendigo chopping up live people.

"No. Human." Isaac tilted his face up, scenting the air. He was tempted to make a dog joke, but he decided against it. Not the time. "One dead body. One alive. Someone else is here."

"Hello?!" He called, looking around the house. He put a hand on his gun at his hip.

"In the other room." Isaac whispered. Stiles nodded, and they started towards the other side of the house, floorboards creaking under their feet. He was about to reach for the doorknob when the door burst open, and he was standing two feet away from a man with a gun to his chest.

There's a gun pressed into the center of his chest.

Stiles always thought that if this ever happened, he'd remember what his dad taught him and find a way out of it. But that wasn't what was happening. Because all he could think about now was how he wanted to apologize.

"Put the gun down." He managed to gasp out. He could Hear Isaac growl beside him.

"I didn't mean to." The guy sobbed, digging the barrel into his ribs. "We were just fighting, I love her, really! I'd never hurt her." _But you did._ Stiles thought.

"Okay sir. Put. The gun. Down." Isaac said beside him. Stiles glanced over and yup, Isaac had his gun pointed at the guy's head. He suspected the only reason that guy wasn't dead yet was because paper work was a bitch, and Stiles was still breathing.

"Look." He began. "I don't know what you did, but if you just-" he started to move his hand away from his gun.

"No!" The guy shouted, and then

There wasn't a gun pressed to his chest anymore.

"Stiles!" Isaac shouted. He didn't know what happened after, exactly, just that he wasn't standing anymore. He was pressed against a wall, and his hands were covered in red. And his chest.

His chest was covered in red.

"Shit, fuck, you're going to be alright. It's fine." Isaac's face was hovering over his, blue eyes wide and panicked.

"Is'c..." Why was he so out of breath?

"You're going to be okay Stiles. The paramedics are just five minutes away." What? He... He's been shot.

He's been shot in the chest.

"I...I haff to tell 'im..." He has to tell Derek he loves him. He has to.

"Don't. You didn't die when that witch tried to rip your heart out, and you're not going to die now, okay? Because Derek will kill me. Whatever you have to say, tell him when you see him." Stiles felt himself smile, despite their current situation.

"M' gonna...take 'im out to...dinn'r." He finally slurred out. "Nd' say...sorry."

"Yeah? Where are you gonna take him?" Someone was asking him questions, carding their fingers through his hair. Their face was too blurry for him to tell who they were, and their voice sounded far away.

"To... M'nica's din'r... He lovezit there...." He closed his eyes.

"Stiles. Stiles, open your eyes." He was sure that someone slapped him, but he barely felt it. "No no no, Stiles, come on! You...your heart needs to keep beating, okay?! Derek..."

He didn't know what came after.

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles was curled up in a ball on Derek's bed, where he'd been for the past five hours. He wasn't asleep, Derek knew. His eyes were still open, staring blankly at the brick wall of the loft. His heart was still beating too fast, and he could tell that the younger man was on the edge of having a full blown panic attack, but he didn't know when it would happen or just how bad it would be.

"He's gone." Stiles finally whispered. Derek sat up straighter. "He's actually gone."

"I'm sorry." It was a stupid thing to say. When his family died, no amount of 'I'm sorry's made him feel better. But he felt like he needed to say it. Because he was sorry.

"Our lawyer wants to come talk to me about his will. And the guys at the station are wondering when the funeral will be. If there is one." The salty smell of tears filled the air, and Derek wrapped an around around his waist, pulling him closer. "I c-can't do this."

"It's going to be okay." He told him. Because it would be, eventually.

"D-Der-rek-" his chest heaved, like just breathing was too much for him. Derek knew this would happen eventually.

It had been two days since the call. The first day, Stiles didn't really do anything. When he got the call, Derek remembered the look on his face. How his legs couldn't seem to cold him anymore, and he collapsed. He'd been with the pack, watching some dumb movie that Derek for the life of him couldn't remember the title of. After that, he just sat on the couch, staring blankly at the tv. Yesterday, he was busy, answering and making calls, bursting into tears in between. Then today, this morning, Stiles just wouldn't get up. It broke Derek's heart to see him like this.

"Shhh, Stiles." He put a hand over his rabbit fast heart, trying to calm him. "Breathe, Stiles, come on."

"M-my dad i-i-is dead, Der." He sobbed, turning around and clinging to Derek, burying his face in his shirt. Derek held him as tightly as he could, pressing kisses to the top of his head and rubbing his hand up and down his back. There wasn't much else he could do. "Wh-what am I s-supposed to do with the house? I can't sell it, Derek. I can't. Mom-" he choked back a sob.

"Don't worry about that now." Derek whispered. "Is there anything I can do?" Stiles' answer had been no for the past two days.

"Don't leave me." He cried.

"Never."

 

* * *

 

 

Erica threw herself down on the couch and propped her feet up on the coffee table. Derek swatted them away, glaring at her.

"Stop that. Stiles hates it when people do that."

"He'll never know." She shrugged. "Come on, let's see it."

"Oh, he'll know. He'll like a bloodhound when it comes to this. I broke a plate once, and even though I bought the exact same one to replace it, he still knew." He removed her feet from the table. "But of course, he still doesn't use a coaster."

"Aw, come on, it 'makes it look lived in.'" She quoted. "Stop avoiding it."

"Avoiding what?"

"Show me the ring!" She smacked the side of his arm.

"Alright, alright." He got up, went to the pantry, and pulled out a large jar of jelly beans. "Stiles hates jelly beans." He told Erica's confused expression. "So I buried it in here." He unscrewed the lid and pulled out a small velvet box. It was bright red, like that ridiculous hoodie he always wore ("irony, Der. I live for it.").

"Holy shit." Erica breathed. He handed her the box and she popped it open. " _Holy shit_."

"I'm beginning to think those are the only words you know." He muttered, blush spreading across his cheeks and ears.

"I thought the ones with diamonds were for women?" She raised an eyebrow. He glared at her.

"When have you ever known us to be conventional?"

"Oh my god, he's going to love it!" She closed the box and threw herself at him, knocking the air out of his lungs. "Eight years, Derek. I've watched you two ogle at each other for eight years. And now you're getting married! Holy crap, Derek Hale, settling down and having kids. Wow." She pulled away and beamed at him. "You'd have adorable kids."

"Oh god, don't." He groaned. "Don't get my hopes up. He could still say no."

"But he won't." She assured him, turning on the tv. Upstairs, Derek's phone started to ring.

"I'll be right back. Try not to get your filth all over everything."

"Shut up." She scoffed, settling deeper into the couch. Derek took the steps two at a time, quietly hoping that it was Stiles calling. That he didn't hate him after everything that happened that morning. He grabbed the phone and sighed at the name. **_Isaac_**.

"Hello?"

"Derek. Thank god." The beta sounded...panicked.

"Isaac? What's wrong? Is there another witch?" The last one left just a week ago, and Derek really didn't want to deal with them again.

"No, Derek, it's...it's bad." Derek felt dread curl in the pit of his stomach.

"Where are you?"

"It's Stiles." Isaac finally told him. Derek felt like the breath was sucked right out of his lungs.

"What?" It was barely a whisper.

"He got shot, Derek, and...you really need to come down here." That wasn't what he was expecting. This wasn't how he wanted the day to go at all, actually.

 

\---

 

"Come on," Stiles pulled their bodies flush together and shifted his hips against Derek's. "Dance."

"Stiles!" He hissed, tightening his grip on the deputy's hips to keep him still. "We're in public. Half the room can hear you." He paused. "And smell you."

"This is dance class." He smirked. "I'm dancing." He rolled his hips.

"I...I don't think that's the type of dancing Scott would like his best friend to do at his wedding." Derek informed him. Stiles sighed.

"You're no fun." He pouted.

"You're worse than Scott and Allison." Isaac wrinkled his nose at them as he passed, and angry looking Lydia in his arms. Stiles just grinned wider, and then pressed closer, almost every part of them touching. Derek tried to glare at him, really, but there was no heat behind it. There couldn't be, not when Stiles pressed that close, radiating happiness and giving him that sarcastic smile he's grown to love.

"God, I hope not." Stiles licked his lips, and Derek's eyes followed the movement. "They're awful. It's like watching puppies play with each other."

"We're nothing like them." He agreed. "They'd never sneak off during their best friend's dance rehearsal to have sex in the backseat of a car." A pretty blush spread across the younger man's cheeks. Across the room, Scott looked absolutely scandalized.

"I'm pretty sure they have, actually."

"Does that mean you don't want to?" He raised an eyebrow, and Stiles laughed, tangling his fingers in Derek's hair.

"Oh, I want to." And then he narrowed his eyes and stepped back a bit. Derek almost whined at the loss of heat. "But I think I'll wait."

Derek could hear Isaac and Erica snickering behind him.

 

* * *

 

 

He felt like he couldn't breathe. He couldn't even drive, his hands were shaking so much.

 _Stiles was shot._ He didn't know where, or when, or how he was doing, but judging by Isaac's tone over the phone, it wasn't good. Fuck. He should have told him he loved him, or some other form of the words. He'd been through enough traumatic experiences, seen enough movies to know; something bad always happens when you don't say 'I love you'.

What if Stiles didn't make it? Oh god. The small box in his pocket felt like it weighed a thousand pounds now. _Stiles cannot die._

"Derek, relax." Erica glanced over at him. "This is Stiles we're talking about. He's batman, remember? He's too stubborn to die. And no way he is going out because of something as stupid as a bullet. We fight monsters for a living, we have for eight years." She didn't sound so sure.

Erica is always sure. Derek felt like his lungs were collapsing.

The hospital looks like it always did, except now it's so much worse. Because his boyfriend, his mate, his _Stiles_ was in there somewhere, and he might not come out. God, Stiles. _Stiles_.

"I...Stiles Stilinski." Derek blurted at the nurses station. Erica was standing behind him, pacing.

"Excuse me?"

"A deputy." He growled, impatient and worried. "A deputy was shot earlier today. Where is he?"

"I'm sorry, I-" the nurse was interrupted by a short, tan woman with curly black hair that was beginning to grey.

"Derek." Melissa put a hand on his arm. "Come on. He's this way."

"H-how-" he cleared his throat, hating the way his voice cracked, how much his chest hurt right now. "How is he? What happened?" At that moment, she pushed open one of the double doors, and Derek saw Isaac sitting in one of the plastic green chairs. His hands were covered in red, as was his uniform, and he smelled so much like Stiles and pain and _blood_ that Derek's knees felt a little weak.

"Derek." Isaac jumped up.

"What happened?" Erica repeated for him. He sank down in the chair next to Isaac, and the three of them stood around him.

"We got a call from someone on fifth earlier today. Someone broke into one of the old houses, so we went to check it out and... The guy shot him in the chest." Isaac whispered. Derek put his head in his hands.

"And what happened to the guy?"

He managed to grit out.

"I shot him." When he looked up, Isaac's eyes were glowing brilliant gold. At least they knew now that the guy wasn't innocent. He didn't think Isaac could handle it if he'd killed an innocent.

"He's in surgery now. It should be at least two more hours." Melissa put a hand on his shoulder. "He'll be fine, Derek. Don't worry." That's what they kept telling him. And yet, he was still worried. "...best surgeon, and I'll try and peek in as much as I can." She gave him a small smile before disappearing down the hall.

 

* * *

 

 

"Stiles!" Derek ran to him as fast as he could. It was just after their graduation. Stiles should be out celebrating with the rest of the betas. Not laying in a pool of his own blood in the middle of the lacrosse field.

"H-hey Sourwolf." The teen coughed, blood dribbling down his chin. Derek swore. "Did you-"

"Yes. Yeah, she's dead. She won't bother you anymore, Stiles." Derek didn't know what to do. He should have never dragged them all into this. Now the weakest member of his pack was bleeding out in his arms.

"The wicked witch is dead." He chuckled weakly. "Yay."

"You idiot." Derek could help but huff out a laugh.

"Is the pack o-okay?" _It doesn't matter. God, your dying and you don't even care. All you care about is whether everyone else is okay. They're werewolves, Stiles, they'll heal. You won't._

"Yeah. Everyone's fine." He assured him. Stiles grinned. His teeth had blood smeared on them, and he was too pale, but he was beautiful. Derek shouldn't have waited this long to figure out how he felt about him. "I'm sorry." He whispered.

"For what?"

"For bringing you into this."

 

\---

 

Three hours later, Mrs. McCall finally returned. It was an hour past when she said she would be back, and Derek was going out of his mind. He'd screamed at Isaac. _Isaac_ of all people.

"Okay." She started. Erica sat up a bit straighter. "It went on a little longer than expected. There were a few...complications." His entire body suddenly felt cold.

"What...what happened?"

"His lungs collapsed after they closed up. He's stable now, they put him in the ICU. He's not awake, but...you can go sit with him." She gestured towards the doors. He nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat and following her. He didn't really pay attention to his surroundings until she stopped in front of a door and pushed it open.

Stiles looked so _tiny_. It hurt to see him that way. Because Stiles wasn't small. He was Derek's height, and maybe he wasn't buff, but he was strong and lean and he always looked like he was ready to take on anything. Now, he looked broken. Too pale, with dark purple bruises under his eyes, a tube shoved down his throat, his hair sticking up in random directions. Derek ran his hands through it.

"It's just to help. He can breath on his own, but it's...a little hard for him." Melissa informed him. He nodded, pulling up a chair next to the bed and taking hold of one of his hands. "I'll be back in a bit, okay?"

"Thank you." He whispered. She closed the door behind her. He finally got what Stiles felt like all those years ago. Derek had been so reckless then. They'd both been, but he was worse. Him and Stiles fought constantly about each other's safety, and the teen had screamed at him that he couldn't want him almost die anymore. He didn't understand how someone could actually care that much.

He understood now.

When he'd woken up, Stiles had been crying over him, hand clutching his so tightly he would have broken bone, and Derek lifted his hand to run through his hair, because he knew it always calmed him down.

_"Derek?" Stiles look up when Derek rested his hand on his head, eyes wide and red rimmed, tears still slipping down his cheeks._

_"Hey." Derek croaked, throat sore. He was in his bed at the loft, he realized. Stiles looked like shit. Like he hadn't slept in days. Suddenly, like someone flipped a switch, he beamed at him, sitting up straighter._

_"You're awake."_

_"Seems that way." He groaned, pushing himself into a sitting position. "What...what are you doing here?"_

_"Im here for you, dumbass." Stiles grinned. "I love you, remember?"_ Oh _._

_"I love you too, idiot."_

"I love you." He whispered, staring at their hands. Stiles' was always the palest in the pack, complaining about how the sun would only burn him, and it wasn't worth the risk of skin cancer. "God, I - I love you so fucking much, Stiles. I should have-" _don't do that to yourself, sourwolf._ A voice that sounded suspiciously like Stiles warned. _There's nothing you could have done._

He pulled the small box out of his pocket and popped it open, heart clenching painfully in his chest. He heard terrible things about injuries like this. Where part of the lung has to be removed, maybe their brain goes without oxygen for too long and they come out different, maybe they get some sort of disability for the rest of their lives. All those things terrified Derek. Stiles had enough scars, he didn't need missing body parts to go along with them. And the thought of something happening to his brain... That just couldn't happen. Any sort of disability would kill Stiles, because they wouldn't let him back on the force if he had one. Derek would be fine I'd Stiles never set foot at the station again, but the younger man had his reasons, the former sheriff being a huge one.

Stiles' fingers twitched against Derek's hand, but no amount of calling his name could get another response. "You can't stop moving, can you?" He said fondly, voice shaking a bit. "Not even when you're supposed to be in a damn coma."

 

\---

 

"We need a distraction." Stiles whispered, peering over the top of one of the boxes.

"Like what?" Derek growled, tugging him back down. "How are we possibly going to get out of this without your dad seeing us?" Stiles stared at him for a moment before snapping his fingers.

"Turn into a wolf!"

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" He hissed. "I can't do that! There are no wolves in California!"

"Exactly! Which is why it'll be totally distracting when there's a huge black wolf galavanting through IKEA in the middle of the fucking day." He smacked the back of his head. "Do it. Strip. It's for the greater good."

"It is not for the greater good. I don't understand why you won't just tell him." Derek rolled his eyes as Stiles started tugging on his jacket.

"Because. He'll have a heart attack. I don't want to be responsible for my dad's death, dude. Werewolves and mythical creatures, he can handle. Magical teenagers, he can handle. Said magical teenager dating former murder suspect and Alpha extraordinaire Derek Hale, I'm not sure he could handle. I don't think he'd take it very well if he found out while we were buying you some new furniture." He gave up and put his hands on his hips.

"You're not a teenager anymore. You turned twenty two weeks ago." Derek reminded him.

"Right. I forgot." He frowned, then slummed forward, resting his head on Derek's shoulder. "We could wait here until he leaves?" He asked, sounding hopeful.

"I don't think that's an option." Derek muttered, looking up just as the sheriff rounded the corner.

The older man paused when he saw them. Stiles jumped back, staring at his father with wide eyes.

"D-dad." Stiles stuttered. "Uh, this- I mean-"

"Was this supposed to be a secret?" He raised an eyebrow, and Derek felt his cheeks grow warm.

"Um..." The younger man supplied helpfully. Derek sighed.

"I wanted to tell you as soon as we got together, sir. I would just like to clarify that." He told him. The sheriff nodded, narrowing his eyes at his son.

"Oh, I don't doubt that you did, son." Derek ducked his head. The sheriff called him son. No one had called him that since...well, since his dad was alive.

"I wasn't sure how you'd take it!" Stiles argued. The sheriff shook his head.

"Right."

 

* * *

 

 

It had been a week. A whole week of nothing. Of hospital rooms and heart monitors, the hissing of air in the respirator. Derek just wanted it to end.

On the ninth day, he woke up to half lidded, tired brown eyes staring at him. He sat up straighter.

"Stiles." He choked out, gripping his hand. Stiles blinked sluggishly at him.

"Hey." His voice sounded scratchy and breathless, but he was still _talking_. He didn't think he could be happier than he was now, watching Stiles try and smile at him when he'd thought he might never see it again just a few days ago. "D'rek..."

"Hi." He smiled at him, and Stiles weakly squeezed his hand. "You had me worried."

"'M sorry." Derek wanted to laugh. None of this was his fault, why was he apologizing?

"For what?" Honestly, Derek should be the one apologizing.

"I love you." He sighed. Now, Derek really did laugh. He was crying and he knew it, but he didn't care. Stiles was okay. He was going to be fine. He was looking at Derek like the werewolf had lost his marbles, and it was so familiar that he just had to laugh.

"I love you too, you idiot."

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> There were supposed to be some stories before this, but this is the only one I finished writing, so I guess I'll post this one first.


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